Tuesday, 19 November 2013

Meadowsweet is famous.But we’ll get to that in a mo.You’ll
have seen this one about, its both prolific and beautiful, a lovely sight:
frothy smallish offwhite/cream coloured
flowers, smelling of marzipan and tasting gently of almond according to James
Wong, herbalist, ethno-botanist and author of the catchily titled Grow Your Own Drugs (2009), and of
cucumber according to Jeff Cox and Marie Pierre-Moine, authors of The Herb Garden for Cooks (2010).It’s a member of the Rose family.

It’s another hardy herbaceous perennial.It grows between2-4 feet high and spreads
about 2 feet outward when it’s growing happily in good dampish ground (it would
like my garden).Its leaves are darkish
green, serrated and deeply veined, smelling of oil of wintergreen when crushed[1].

Meadowsweet has uses today even beyond its most famous one,
and beyond its strong use in modern herbalism; it’s very handy in the
kitchen.Jekka McVicar has this to say:
“both the leaves and flowers are edible. The flowers have a mild almond flavour[2]
and can be added to stewed fruits, jellies and jams.They are also good for flavouring meads and
beers, and make an interesting wine.Young spring leaves have a dry flavour and can be added to salads and
soups.[3]”

The roots are also used for a black dye, to this day, in
some UK textile factories; though meadowsweet is actually very versatile when
it comes to being a dye, and depending on mordant, was used in Scotland in the
past to create yellow (using the flowers; mordant: alum), reddish brown (using
the root; mordant: ferrous sulphate) and a grey black (which utilised the
flowers, not the root; and again, used ferrous sulphate as mordant)[4].

Usage in History

Meadowsweet has a long history of being used to flavour mead,
especially in Scotland.
Highland Wineries use still, for example.Agnes Walker (2003) wrote a book on historical herb usage in Scotland, and
has this:

Gerrard (1663) says that ‘the
floures boiled in wine and drunk do maketh the heart merrie’.According to Dickson and Dickson the old name
for meadowsweet in southern Scotland
literally means ‘mead plant’.Extensive
research into the types and proportions of pollen, found a sticky substance in
a funerary beaker from a Bronze Age cist in Fife
(dated 1250) that contained immature pollen from unpollinated flowers and
mature pollen which could have been picked up by bees in making honey.Other pollen grains found were common
ingredients of honey.This led them to
conclude that the mixture must have contained a honey drink, perhaps fermented,
flavoured with meadowsweet flowers. Experiments by a distillery firm showed
that adding meadowsweet flowers to barley ale produced an ale that remained
drinkable for months[5].

She adds that, culinarily speaking it was the favourite
stewing herb of Queen Elizabeth I’s court, and among the nobles.They also used it as one of their floor
strewing herbs, as they found the release of the wintergreen oil on treading
pleasant, especially in the winter months.It was also used to scent linen and the flowers used for pot pourri[6].

It is used to stay all manner of
bleedings, fluxes, vomitings, women’s menses, as also their whites; it is said
to take away the fits of quartan agues[8]
[…]it speedily helps those that are
troubled with the cholic, being boiled in wine; and with a little honey, taken
warm, it opens the belly; but boiled in red wine, and drunk, it stays the flux
of the belly.Being outwardly applied it
heals old ulcers that are cancerous or eaten, or hollow and fistulous, for
which it is by many much commended, as also for sores in the mouth and secret
parts[9].

We’ll come now to why meadowsweet is famous.It was traditionally used in the Highlands
and Islands for treating fevers and headaches[10].Meadowsweet contains a substance called
salicylic acid, from which the Bayer Company in 1889, synthesized
acetylsalicylic acid, the basis for what we now know as Aspirin[11]:

The main uses are for alimentary
tract disorders and rheumatism.Unlike
aspirin, however, meadowsweet appears to be protective to the stomach lining
while providing the anti inflammatory benefit.There is documented scientific evidence for some of the antiseptic,
anti-rheumatic and astringent actions, despite the absence of human clinical
data[12].

Modern Herbalism Usage

The aerial parts are used in modern herbalism.It’s thought preferable to aspirin, its
synthesized cousin, because as a plant, it works in compound fashion, reducing
the chances of a reaction of the stomach lining that aspirin can induce (aspirin
= stronger, but rougher).Meadowsweet
contains more than just salicylic acid; it’s an essential oil with compounds
called spiraeine and gualtherin, as well as tannin and citric acid (in other
words, for the more nutritionist amongst you: flavonoids, oil, and phenolic
glycosides).It acts as an antacid,
anti-emetic, astringent, anti-rheumatic, anti-inflammatory, and is thought of
as: “one of the best digestive remedies
for holistic practitioners. It protects and soothes the mucous membranes of the
digestive tract, reducing excess acidity and easing nausea.It is used in the treatment of heartburn,
hyperacidity, gastritis and peptic ulceration.Its gentle astringency is useful for treating diarrhoea in children”[13].Because it also acts as a mild diuretic, it
can help with treating edema.Bartram
describes it as “the herbalists bicarbonate of soda”, explaining that the
salicyclic acid is so potent because of its anti-thrombotic effect on the blood
vessels[14].Taken as a tincture, 1-4mls is recommended 3
times a day; whereas if taken as an infusion, 1-2tsp of the dried herb should
be steeped for 10-15 minutes, again, for drinking 3 times a day, initially.(Obviously, if you’re feeling all this
applies to you, go see a proper Medical Herbalist, yes?)

Taken from the goodly cooks at perrone.blogs.com

Magickal Uses, past
and present

Said to be one of the three most sacred herbs of the Druids,
the other 2 being watermint and vervain.[15]

Used as a suitable floral tribute at grave sites in the
Bronze Age; shown by analysis of pollen grains found as far and wide as the
Orkneys, Perthshire in the North, and Carmarthenshire, Wales in the West.Druidically (by which I mean a mixture of
attempted historical reconstruction and a range of sympathetic neo-pagan modern
practices, as enacted by those members of OBOD or the BDO, for example), this
is still the perfect herb for funerals, because its considered a rite of
passage herb.A herb journeying from one
state to another, much like its traditional usage: from fever to normal
temperature, from pain to placidity.It
was also “strewn before bridal couples”, giving it its other main folk name of
‘Bridewort’ or ‘Bride of the Meadow’[16].

Nowadays, this herb is often used in spells and charms to
lift depression and promote peace, both within the person, and within a home or
work environment.Ellen Every Hopman
maintains this is a herb of gentle love spells[17],
calling for peaceful affection.Cassandra Eason goes further, saying it “can bring lasting love,
happiness and psychic awareness, especially about those who have wronged you
and have malice in their hearts.It is
used for both gentle cleansing and healing, bringing peace within the self,
warring factions and globally”[18].
I love the optimism!That makes me want
to carry some about with me forever (at the rate I annoy people; it might well
be sensible!).

It’s particularly associated with Lammas, with women
encouraged to wear garlands of Meadowsweet to join with the essence of the
Goddess[19].It can be foraged for from June onwards,
through to Lammas time, when new growth should be picked – as if you’re
planning on cooking or making a cordial with it (say), to honour the Goddess,
the fresh new growth will contain more active ingredients and taste better.

Culinary Treats!

Since I seem to have gone all contrarily summery in the
midst of November, I thought I’d finish this post with 2 brill recipes from
ethno-botanist James Wong’s excellent home herbal remedy book A Year With James Wong (2010).The first is for a pain relieving syrup (with a child friendly variant
after, and one that you can also use if you think you may experience any
irritation with the salicylic acid in meadowsweet).The second is for a delightful sounding sorbet.I can imagine eating this in winter despite
how wonderfully summery it sounds, and with the added pain reliving ingredient…sounds
good for a cold to me…

Sweet, fragrant, and with the power to relieve pain – it’s
hard to see how a remedy could get any better.This flowery syrup is based on the frothy blossoms of meadowsweet
plants, traditionally used to treat headaches and fevers, and one of the plants
from which aspirin was first derived[20].The very word ‘aspirin’ comes from the
plant’s old Latin name, Spiraea[21].With a flavour like a fizzy cross between
elderflower and marzipan, meadowsweet flowers can be found in damp meadows and
along banks and ditches all over Britain.

Ingredients:

1 lemon

10-20 meadowsweet flowerheads (pref. fresh)

180ml water

180g sugar

Method:

Grate
the rind from the lemon and squeeze the juice.Place the lemon rind and juice with all
the other ingredients in a stainless steel pan[22].Bring gently to the boil, stirring
occasionally, and the simmer for 10 minutes.

Strain
into one or two sterilized bottles and allow cooling before sealing.(Its best to make small amounts of this
recipe as the syrup can go mouldy within a week of opening.)For a year round supply, simply pop a
couple of bottles of the cordial in the freezer, where they will last for
at least one year.

For Use:

Dilute with water for a refreshing drink.

CAUTION:

Should not be given to children under 16.Don’t take if pregnant or allergic to
aspirin.

Storage:

Keep in the fridge, and use within 1 week.Or in the freezer for up to one year.

Child Friendly
Variant:

For children aged 2-16, you can use other fragrant summer
flowering herbs such as lemon balm or elderflower, instead of the
meadowsweet.Just substitute 3-4 heaped
teaspoons of the fresh flowers for the meadowsweet, and follow the recipe
above.

Pairing the pain-relieving properties of meadowsweet with
the flavour of sweet summer peaches, this cooling fruity sorbet is a true
guiltless pleasure.(For the meadowsweet
cordial component, see the recipe above.)

Ingredients:

3 ripe peaches

1 orange

120ml meadowsweet cordial

2 egg whites

Method:

Peel
and stone the peaches and put them into the blender.

Add
the grated zest and juice of the orange, as well as the meadowsweet
cordial, and whizz for a few seconds.

Put
in a plastic container and leave in the freezer until just beginning to
freeze (about 1 hour, depending on your freezer).Remove from the freezer and beat
thoroughly.

Whip
the egg whites until stiff, then fold into the peach mixture and freeze
until ready to eat.

Use:

Gorge on as required.

CAUTION:

Should not be given to children under 16. Don’t take is pregnant or allergic to aspirin.

Storage:

Will keep up to 3 months in a sealed container in the
freezer.

Tip:

As for the last recipe, to make this child friendly, for
ages 2-16, make the sorbet with lemon balm or elderflower cordial instead of
the meadowsweet cordial.

(These recipes are both taken from: A Year With James Wong, by James Wong [London: Collins, 2010], pp.102-103 – and
thankyou very much for them!Yum!I recommend all 3 of James Wong’s books – he
writes very readably about basic safe home practice of herbalism.He’s a great place to start if you’re
interested in this topic.Series 1 of
his BBC programme, Grow Your Own Drugs was
still available on Amazon when I last checked.It’s often handy to see this sort of thing done, if it seems at all
daunting. Also check out his website, it has audio, and video clips from his programmes, too: http://www.jameswong.co.uk/)

***

Till Our Next Merry Meeting, people!I’ll try and be more seasonal and do a
wintery herb next time I do a herb post!!

And remember: just
enjoy the info here; I’m not a doctor, I’m just an enthusiast – don’t go dosing
yourself without a professional to hand!!

[21] (This
as you remember, is one of the active compounds within the meadowsweet plant.)

[22]
This is one of the few herbal recipes that calls for a stainless steel pan;
most will insist on enamel (you can get them from specialist cookshops) as it
is completely neutral when it comes to simmering herbs for long periods, and
there will be no hint of metallic flavour. (This recipe doesn’t have a long
simmering time, hence ordinary pans are alright to use.)Enamel also holds heat differently.It’s the same idea as when trying to be
authentic when cooking a Middle Eastern tagine, for example, and using a….Tagine
(the clay cooking pot) as it distributes heat very evenly.

Monday, 18 November 2013

It’s been a while since I did any of my Druidry reading, and
told you of any herbs.So today I’ll
tell you a little of Mugwort…and then tomorrow I’ll tell you of Meadowsweet.How’s that sound?

Mugwort (Artemsia
Vulgaris)

Jekka tells us this is a hardy herbaceous perennial growing
freely both by the road and by small water courses.It can grow up to 4 ft and spread 18”
(apologies, despite being born in 1971, I do not appear to have gone metric at
all…).It has tiny reddish brown (and sometimes yellow) flowers
that appear in summer.Its leaves are
dark green serrated and appear covered in down, as are all the leaves of plants
in the Artemesia family (including Vulgaris’s close relative Absinthium, aka
Wormwood, of the famous scary absinthe drink!; and the brilliantly named Dracunculus,
which is French Tarragon, commonly cooked with today).[1]

Historical Usage

If they wad drink nettles in March

And eat muggins in May

Sae many braw maidens

Wadna gang to clay.

This is a poem quoted by folkorists of the mermaid of Clyde’s pronouncement on seeing the funeral of a young
girl.Gabrielle Hatfield, author of Memory, Wisdom and Domestic Plant Medicine [2],
explains the poem, and then goes on to tell of a historical phenomenon I’ve read
of often when researching herbal remedies for these posts and for my own
interest:

The ‘muggins’ mentioned by the
mermaid was a plant well known for its use in treating ‘women’s
afflictions’.Known also as Mugwort,
this plant appears in proverbs in Scotland
and Wales.Carmichael
quotes:

When I began studying plant
medicines in use within living memory in Britain, mugwort did not appear at
first.Then a letter from a man brought
up in Essex gave this information, recalled from
the 1920s: ‘In our garden my father grew a clump of “Mugwort” and I think my
mother used this for irregularities peculiar to women.’He added that he particularly remembered the
mugwort because of his father’s strict instructions not to pull it up!Mugwort grows in the wild, but presumably in
this case the family wished to be assured of a constant supply when it was
needed.

Originally, practical
instructions were part of the common knowledge of plant remedies, and would
have been passed down orally from one generation of plant users to the
next.Once copied into the literature of
the day, they became altered in various ways.Scorn was poured on them in some quarters, and still is today[4].In other instances, they were altered and
exaggerated, and tied in with astrology and all kinds of other beliefs.Culpeper, for example, embroidered this
aspect of plant medicine.[5]
[…]In any case his readers represented
the literate minority, and the illiterate majority doubtless continued to use
plant remedies in the same way their families had done for generations.This is an example of how the written version
of plant medicine diverged increasingly from empirical plant usage.

As Thompson[6],
Ewart Evans[7]
and many others have testified, oral testimony is often remarkably
accurate.However, once information is
committed to print, any errors that creep in tend to become perpetuated, and an
[…] example of this has already been mentioned [earlier in her book] where the
oral version of a remedy used for horses had survived accurately whereas the
printed version in a veterinary book was totally wrong.This is the kind of incorrect evidence which
has often, quite unjustly, brought traditional remedies into disrepute.[8]

Whilst that was a monster long quote there, I felt it needed
leaving in its entirety, as I’m not only telling you about individual herbs in
these posts, but a little about the history of their usage, and their recorded usage.It’s as well you’re aware that there have
been, and continue to be, sometimes serious discrepancies between oral and
written record concerning dosages, usages etc.(In another post later, on Comfrey, I’ll let Ms Hatfield tell you all
about the dangers of incomplete
herbal information, too…and why you should always check multiple reliable sources
before attempting any herbalism on yourself at home.)

Culpeper, impugned so thoroughly there by Ms Hatfield, has
this to say on Mugwort, and we’ll start off where she complains:

This is a herb of Venus, and
therefore maintains the parts of the body she rules, and remedies the diseases
of the parts that are under her signs, Taurus and Libra.Mugwort is used with good success, among
other herbs, in a hot decoction, for women to sit over, to provoke the menses,
help delivery, and expel the afterbirth; also, for the obstructions and
inflammations of the womb.It breaks the
stone, and causes one to make water when it is stopped.[9]

He also describes it used as a pessary, and the roots made
into an ointment with ‘hogs lard’ to take away ‘wens and kernals about the neck
and throat’.He tells of it also being
used as a remedy for an overdose of opium (not sure quite how that would work),
and ‘three drachms of the powder in dried leaves, taken in wine’ as a ‘sure and
speedy cure of the sciatica’[10].So he felt it something of a wonder drug;
then again, in those days, most herbs were used for multiple functions.

It wasn’t only used medicinally.In the extremely informative TheMedieval
Garden, the author describes a house called Bayleaf, in England, circa
1500, a yeoman’s residence, from various papers left behind.Mugwort was in use as a vermicidal by the
mistress of the house.When the floors
were regularly swept out (and the results composted), the new herbs strewn down
would always include both mugwort leaves and its relative wormwood to discourage rats
and mice, as well as mints and fennel for their fresh smells[11].

Herbalism Today

Mugwort is still in use within British Herbalism today.It’s known as ‘the Mother of Herbs’ because it’s
still used for multiple purposes.“Best
described as a tonic with particular application to the digestive and nervous
systems, it reduces nervous indigestion, nausea, and irritability.As a womb tonic it is useful to regulate
periods and reduce period pain and PMS”[12]
– so little change in that aspect of its traditional usage.The parts used are the flowers and leaves,
primarily.Its usually taken as an
infusion, dosed at ¼ - ½ tsp 3 times a day.And strictly avoided in pregnancy, for the obvious reasons above: it
interacts too strongly with the womb.

Nowadays, a common usage of mugwort is in Japanese
Herbalism, where it is used to make Moxas,
a cure for rheumatism[13];
and also used in acupuncture, a resinous fluff lump (!- Ok my descriptive
powers are limited there) lit gently to smoulder and suspended on one of the
needles, so as to heat the needle softly with the additional stimulation simply
of heat, to that point where the needle is placed.(I once had a funny moxa accident during acupuncture; it just fell off, as it was
slightly too big for the needle…and yes, I got a burn from it.In the perfect shape of a triangle on my
stomach.It didn’t hurt too badly, and
for years, in a mischievous and silly way, I would show off the scar and tell
people I got it when abducted by aliens.Eventually, due to regular and copious lathering with lavender oil the
scar faded clean away, so I have been forced to stop telling that enjoyably
untrue anecdote. Tsk.)

Magickal Uses,
traditional and current

As suggested by its Latin name, sacred to the Goddess
Artemis (goddess of the moon and childbirth).Its folk remedy characteristics as an ‘easer of the troubles of women’
are reflected here too: periods, menopause, childbirth – but more widely, as a
general protector, aimed mostly at women but also available to men.

Used primarily in magickal terms as a cleansing herb, in the
same way as Agrimony (see previous post).Using both herbs in an incense thoroughly cleanses a room, creating an
atmosphere conducive to meditation and/or divination.It’s supposed to aid clairvoyance, and it’s
suggested that an infusion be drunk before scrying “to widen perception”[14].
Alternatively, rubbing the infusion over
a mirror or other glass surface[15]
to be looked into (go get your crystal ball!) will do a similar job. Sleeping
with an herb pillow of Mugwort is “an encouragement to Future Seeking Dreams”[16].
Protectively, it was hung over doorways to houses, as a folk charm against
lightning, misfortune and thievery; but under the doorway to stop unwanted visitors[17].

Cassandra Eason, prolific modern writer on all things odd
and mostly interesting to Blackberry Juniper, adds these as variations on
traditional magickal uses for mugwort: it’s a help to shape-shifting (in the
vision quest, astral sort of way) and is protective of all travellers,
especially from predators, human or otherwise[18].

The leaves are supposed to be gathered on Midsummer’s Eve;
the roots during autumn. The flowers, though so familiar and gorgeous looking, are not often used magickally nowadays.

***

And there we leave it
for today, people!Remember, I’m not a
doctor, so don’t go dosing yourself based on anything I’ve said!Just enjoy the info, and if interested, do
more reading!

It’s a fascinating
subject, herbalism in history and in practice, both medical and magickal –
which I stress, are 2 completely different emphases, and Medical Herbalists
will get most shirty if you bundle
them in with neo-pagan practitioners like myself, so don’t go doing that!!

[4]
From Hatfield’s footnotes: ‘Dr Speller claims there is little in these bizarre
and entertaining “cures” that can have any basis in therapeutics’, letter in
Margaret Baker, Folklore and Customs of
Rural England, 1974, p.169.Another
author goes so far as to state: “In general, native plant remedies are of
little value”, D.J. Guthrie, Transactions
of the Botanical Society of Edinburgh, 1961, vol 39, part 2.’

Monday, 11 November 2013

Let’s talk about the weather.You know what I hate? Gales, hurricanes,
generally wind.A cool breeze in summer,
that’s one thing, a beautiful thing.But
going down the street getting irregularly pushed at by wind, especially when it’s
cold and already raining? That’s just annoying.I feel like I’m personally fighting it. It’s personally pissed off with
me and wants to annoy me.

I only mention this, as I came down the hill, and first it
was that lovely fine rain. The rain that will coat you completely and have you
soaked before you realise it, but it feels more or less friendly.I was imagining it frizzling up my already
unruly hair, which is a nice free service here performed by Mother Nature where
some women would pay money for it.Then
the wind started.Harrumph.

Today has the potential to be highly stressful (hospital
appointment for Fluffhead, arrangements of possibly invasive tests; cue massive
overprotective co-dependent frenzy of projection and worry on my part), so the
least I owe myself is not to get overly irritated by a bit of wind.You know, prioritise the shit fits.(Don’t think about the hospital, don’t think
about the hospital.)Sit down.Write the blog.

*

Last night was the Night of Bangs and Sparkles.Fireworks Night, Bonfire Night, Guy Fawkes
Night.Blow up Parliament like V would
night.

The Prince, Fluffhead and I stood outside, shuffling and
stamping feet in the already smoky air, waiting for Stanley (whose raison d’être is to keep anyone waiting
for just about anything for just long enough to piss you off but not long
enough for you to deem it worthwhile to have a proper go at him; I end up
providing a snippy comment I am unable to suppress, which he will regularly
ignore). We listened to bangs and muffled
plosive sounds from the distance on all sides.Watched the blaring light through the leaves from next door (the crap
neighbours) and the total darkness from the other side (the lovely agreeable
neighbours, the ones who don’t steal
your recycling bins).

Fluffhead pressed the button on his Prince provided light
stick, turning it from blue to white torch point, to flashing and dead and back
again.I said I was bored (which is one
of my raison d’êtres come to think of
it, and how sad), as well as hungry (ditto), and the Prince smiled as he’s used
to me now, and knows when I’m really moaning and when I’m playing at it.

Eventually Stanley
appeared, muffled in a big scarf and his army jacket, carrying the box of
garden fireworks and the long package of rockets provided by Saint Mum.(And very luckily too, as we had left it to
the last minute, too late to shop, a bit unusual considering we currently had 3
sparkle and bang obsessed males in the house instead of the usual 2.Mum saved the day.)

The Prince and Stanley set to organising the little
display.The Prince pulling free all the
fuses?, wicks? – what exactly are they?? – from the tissue paper tops, Stanley fixing the little
metal shelf we balance them on securely to the ground.

Fluffhead, quite interestingly I thought, seemed to remember
the whole production from last year, and kept saying in a guttural croaky
voice, “BANG!”“BANG!”(This is also very similar to his garbled
pronunciation of the words ‘brown’ and ‘black’ but contextually, and with the
accompanying hand gestures of rising– outward
fan – falling, it became clear what he meant.)

He settled himself on the small stoop by the back door and
held his hands together in his lap, smiling and calm, like a small gentleman
waiting for the opera to start.

The Prince scuffed his feet some more and looked about him
for things to be helpful with (this is what he’s like).There was nothing immediately doing so he
grinned at me a bit ruefully and looked perturbed.I gave him one of my biggest teeth smiles, as
his helpfulness both amazes and amuses me.As in, its so kindly and nice and er, helpful, to save other people time
by doing stuff for them…and then on the other hand, I can’t help comparing
myself to him, so he makes me feel a bit like Saint Mum does sometimes: like I
can never be this Good and Kind to people, and indeed, I rarely want to be (as in the words of
Phoebe from Friends, any favours for
others are to be considered in termsof
whether they are boring, expensive or time consuming; and evaluated for action
or rejection accordingly).In the face
of such regular unselfishness as a mirror, I often feel like flopping down on
the sofa, remote in hand and saying “feck you all”, just generally, to the world.

This is actually one of the major differences between
Stanley and The Prince.The Prince is
unfailingly kind and considerate.Making
a moody person like me feel a bit rebellious and naughty.Stanley
on the other hand, can and does help people.But entirely on his own terms, in his own time, and very often
accompanied by mocking irreverent good humour; generally inappropriate
rudeness.I like the way we move around
the house Being Rude to each other, swearinglike teenagers just discovering the joy of a good cuss (it has to be
said, the swearing part is mostly me).It’s
refreshing, childlike, and weirdly sincere.I can be my irritable downcast and insecure self around Stanley, and it becomes incorporated into a
sort of joke.Real but not a cause for
concern.To an extent, Stanley fulfils exactly the same function for
The Prince.He calls him out on the
sometimes excessive Butler-like helpfulness, and the tolerance and seeing well
of other people that can cause him to be taken advantage of.He is Rude to him.The Prince smiles.Stanley
makes us laugh and not take ourselves so seriously – a very good skill.And he does it often.I don’t know where he fetches his good humour
from.Its consistency in the Face of
Life impresses me, daily.His
non-sponginess I aspire to.

The show starts.Fluffhead springs up.I pull him
back by the hood of his jacket, and he makes a cross noise before taking my
hand and standing relatively still.Stanley is muffling the
view, running back from the lit firework that’s gassing Chinese Green behind
him.The Prince takes his hands out of
his pockets and watches.His eyes light.
“BANG!” says Fluffhead, even though this one is mostly cream and green sparkles
and shoots.He jumps up and down.I keep one hand close to his shoulder, a
small part of my head filled with public information films from my childhood
about burns.

There’s 30 fireworks, but they seem short, shorter than last
years.By the end, there have been some
semi loud ones, and Fluffhead has pressed himself back against the glass door to
the living room, corners of his mouth pulled down.Cryface.He’s had enough.I pick him up
and he puts his chill face in my neck, I feel snot.I rub his back and we go indoors to watch the
last one from there.The smell of
gunpowder sulphur follows us in.Fluffhead kicks off his wellies and leaves his jacket on the floor,
rushing to the glass door and putting his whole face against it. I turn the
light off so he can see better.

Stanley and The Prince banter outside, about who gets to
clean up the mess.

“BANG!” I hear, followed by an actual one from the
garden.Stanley and The Prince are
murmuring together, yes, that was the best one, the last one, how weird.Fluffhead turns to me, all teeth, happy.Precious.